My December to Remember: Day Twelve
News: Trump rings opening bell at NYSE after winning TIME’s Person of the Year, also invites China’s Xi to Inauguration.
Incoming Border Czar Tom Homan meets with NYC Mayor Eric Adams to discuss illegal migrant criminal deportation plan.
Biden grants largest one-day list of clemency notices – 39 pardons, 1,499 commuted sentences.
IG report shows at least 26 FBI informants went to Capitol Hill January 6th, 2021, 3 entered the Capitol.
My boyfriend has a lot of nicknames for me. A number of them end in “Queen.” Like I’m the “Leftovers Queen,” as I’m always bringing home leftovers from our nights out. Other times I’m “Picker,” when I’m picking my chin or neck (or his blackhead). Others I can’t repeat here, those are just for us. But there’s one that for certain cracks me up every time: “Battering Ram.” It’s because I have the tendency to move fast in certain situations, barreling my way through everyone in order to go where I want.
It started because though he regularly holds the door open for me, there was one instance his hands were full as we were walking into my father’s house. When he opened the door, I practically bowled him over to walk inside first. He was so shocked at my insolence that the nickname began, and now I’m (sort of) cognizant of times where I may be more prone to shoving instead of patient enough to stop until it’s my turn. But when that time comes, I’m going to push my way down my own route until I can go no further, or until someone tells me differently.
I don’t have a problem forging my own path, even if this means I’m breaking the rules, per se. I jaywalk constantly (although it’s not illegal). I’ve pushed through police barriers so I can take the quicker path into work. I stand up at my subway stop so I can be the first person off the car. I go places until I have to stop, even if that means I end up where I’m not supposed to be.
Back in April, I wrote about traveling up to Harlem when Orange Man visited a local bodega. I never followed up on all that happened that night. Most of it I got on video. It was an interesting moment in time that really solidified his eventual win for me. But I gotta say, security was tight that day. Despite my journalistic background telling me “the press can go wherever they want for the story,” my way was about to come to a complete stop, and no amount of barreling forward was going to win out here.
I had my work phone on me and was keeping tabs on when Trump was to arrive at the bodega. He was leaving his criminal hush money trial downtown, so when I got an email about a 45-minute ETA, I tried to get a spot closer to the bodega and really up my vantage point. That part of Broadway splits in two, so I was standing at the middle median. As more police showed up, I noticed there wasn’t anyone gathering in the benches area near the cross street, so I snuck past the group and over the median, where I sat on a bench and pulled my laptop out.
Not two seconds later, I saw out of the corner of my eye a female cop approaching me. Now, when a cop does that slow stride and sidle up to you, and you know you’re doing something wrong, you’re not about to win this confrontation. Still, there’s something in me that knows I can legally be a d*ck to cops, so I wanted to have a little fun before I got up and hightailed it elsewhere.
“You can’t sit here,” she told me.
“But it’s a public area!” I protested.
“Not today it isn’t,” she said, “I can’t have you sitting here.”
“Only cops are allowed here?”
“Yes.”
I looked over toward the cross street at a bunch of guys in suits. “Those guys aren’t dressed like cops,” I told her. She looked over, incredulously, and declared that yes, they too were police detectives and were allowed to be there. I was running out of excuses and her patience was wearing thin, so I told her I just wanted a closer glimpse at the former president but would move because she asked.
“Do you have to record this encounter?” I asked her. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, “No?” I said that was good because I thought the new City Council rule demanding cops record all encounters was stupid. I caught her off guard with that comment, to which she thanked me, and I moved on. It wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be and I knew I had no chance of staying, but I still feel like I made my point of at least trying to create my own path, though catching a record in protest would certainly not have been worth it.
I like to think I have enough sense to know when “my way” is not the correct path to take. Where all my barreling into things could actually be a detriment rather than just another case of me being dramatic. I’m just not in the business of shoving people over in order to get to a place I know I’m not supposed to be. I test the limits. I don’t overstay my welcome, and will take my leave if need be. I only hope the rest of the world learns their place, knowing the difference between stepping up to the front lines, and stepping on someone to get ahead.
Battering Ram out.
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